


Hailsham (Part One)

by DiaryofaMadTheaterMajor



Series: Never Let Me Go [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A lot of death is mentioned, Character Death, F/M, M/M, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiaryofaMadTheaterMajor/pseuds/DiaryofaMadTheaterMajor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Never Let Me Go-AU<br/>Part One is going to be a lot shorter than the other two parts. Mostly because it's all childhood stuff but there was really not need to gloss over every year of their childhoods. Just maybe the most significant parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

My name is Enjolras J. I'm 28 years old. I've been a carer for nine years. And I'm good at my job. My patients always do better than expected and are hardly ever classified as agitated, even if they're about to make a donation. I'm not trying to boast, but I feel a great sense of pride in what we do. Carers and donors have achieved so much. That said, we aren't machines. In the end, it wears you down. I suppose that's why I now spend most of my time not looking forwards but looking back, to The Cottages and Hailsham, and what happened to us there.  
In the fading afternoon light, I sat on the hood of my car and looked at the stretch of field before me. A sudden heaviness hit me, a memory. I shut my eyes and I saw it all again, his face, and I broke down sobbing. I buried my face in my hands as my body shook. I slowly sat up and sniffed, and reached into one of my coat pockets. A plastic horse whose brown color had faded with time sat in my pocket. I touched the black plastic mane and the traced the letter that had been carved into the side all those years ago.  
I clutched the horse tighter in my hand and shut my eyes. Memories came flooding back to me.


	2. Chapter 2

Hailsham was a large school in the English countryside. My first memory of Hailsham was when I was three and I had looked out the window and saw the older children playing in the field. I also remember meeting Courfeyrac A., and Combeferre L. when I was four.   
They were the first friends I made, Courfeyrac had curly brown hair and green eyes. Combeferre had a lighter shade of brown than Courfeyrac and blue eyes with rectangular rimmed glasses. We used to sit in the sandbox and build castles, or Combeferre would read us fairy tales.   
My next memory is the three of us sitting with each other at meals and giggling while we shared inside joke and told stories that we made up.   
When we were six, our group grew larger, there was Bossuet H., Joly Z., and Grantaire L. We had heard that Bossuet was getting married to his girlfriend Musichetta R. and sat ten of us six year olds sat and watched as Cosette V. married the two.   
“I want to get married!” I had exclaimed as we all congratulated the couple. Bossuet and Musichetta had gone off to the jungle gym for their honeymoon. Combeferre and Courfeyrac sat on the swings on either side of me.   
“Me too!” Courfeyrac said.  
“Who would you want to marry, Courfeyrac?” Combeferre asked.  
He thought for a second, “I don’t know, maybe Marius P.”  
“But Marius P. is going to marry Cosette V., he told us yesterday at snack.” Enjolras explained.  
Courfeyrac looked sad for a second, then his smile returned. “What about you Enjolras?”  
I thought for a second, “Grantaire L., only because he’s really good at drawing and then we’d have pretty pictures to hang up.” I said swinging past Combeferre. We both turned to look at Combeferre who was looking over at Joly.   
“I’m not sure who I’d want to marry.” He said looking down at the dirt. 

I had seen Joly a few months ago at a small diner in London, but that’s not important at this moment. The point is that while I was extremely close to Combeferre and Courfeyrac, we got a small group of friends that lasted a good amount of time. They included Bahorel C., Feuilly R., Jean P. (he joined when we were eight and he was six), Grantaire L., Bossuet H., Joly Z., and Marius P. 

I ended up “marrying” Grantaire when I was seven. Musichetta was the priest and our honeymoon was underneath the large red slide. “I have something that I want to give you.” Grantaire sat reaching in the pockets of his shorts and pulled out a brown horse. “I got this at the Sale last week, and I thought you’d like it because you liked my drawing of a horse.”  
I smiled and took the horse, I gave him a kiss on his cheek and his face turned red. I pulled out a folded piece of paper that had a painting of a green flower. I handed it to him and ducked my head down. “It’s not good but I know you like green.” I explained.  
Grantaire smiled and hugged me, “I love it!” 

I think I should explain what a Sale was. I don’t know what it was like at your school but every two weeks a delivery truck would come to Hailsham and they’d bring us boxes of toys. The toys were usually dolls with patches in the face or an eye missing, coloring books with half the drawings colored in, board games with pieces missing and the board taped together. To Hailsham students, it was like Christmas.   
In order to buy things at a Sale, a Hailsham would need to earn tokens. You could earn tokens by doing well on a test, or behaving in class or helping a teacher. I had a good amount of tokens saved up. I had saved a few when I left Hailsham for The Cottages.   
Couples would buy each other things at Sales as token of affections. Gossip would spread about who bought who what. Gossip was a staple among the students of Hailsham. Nearly every week there’d be news of a couple breaking up or a two people getting together.   
Luckily I was never a subject of gossip but my friends were. One piece of gossip I heard about Courfeyrac was that when were we sixteen he was caught making out with Jean P. in a broom closet.   
The rest of our childhood years were nothing really to expand on. Our large group of friends grew back to me, Combeferre and Courfeyrac when we were about eight. Joly occasionally would sit with us at lunch but he and Combeferre hung around together sometimes. Grantaire and I stopped talking at the age of eight. We didn’t fight or anything we just stopped talking to each other. Whenever we passed by each other in the hallway or dorms we say ‘Hello’ or ‘Goodbye’  
When we were nine, a new guardian came to Hailsham. She was a beautiful woman who was introduced to us as Miss Fantine. I remember her sitting in her chair among the other teachers at Hailsham during our morning assembly.   
“Good morning students of Hailsham.” Miss Emily, the headmistress of Hailsham greeted up.  
“Good morning, Miss Emily.” We all chorused back.   
She motioned for us all to stand and Miss Pauline playing the school song and we all sang along. Once we finished and the last chords of music finished echoing in the vast room, we all sat down.   
“It has come to my attention that three burnt cigarettes were found behind a flower pot.” One of the teachers, I can’t remember who, stood up and in a small clear container was the evidence. We craned our necks to try to get a peek at the cigarettes but we were too far from the front. “I’m aware that some of the students have seen some of the caretakers and deliverymen smoking cigarettes. I must emphasize that the students of Hailsham are special. It is much worse students of Hailsham to smoke cigarettes than anyone else. I must once again stress the importance of keeping yourselves healthy, on the inside and out, is of the most paramount importance. Is that understood?”  
“Yes, Miss Emily.” We chorused. 

Miss Fantine was introduced to us right after that, she was wearing a pretty purple dress and her hair was brown and pulled into a tight bun. She made a few remarks about how excited she was to be our new guardian and how honored she was to be at Hailsham. She was met by applause and she sat down.   
Most of my memories of Miss Fantine are sparse. There are several ones that stuck out, one in particular comes to mind, but I’ll get to that a bit later.   
One memory I have of Miss Fantine takes place a few days after she’d been introduced. We were all playing kickball in the field by the boundary fence, Combeferre L. rolled the ball and Bahorel C. kicked the ball hard. Marius P. was in the outfield and the ball arched over his head and he ran to catch it but it bounced past the fence and Marius P. stopped dead.   
I hadn’t noticed that Miss Fantine had been watching the game but when I did she was looking at us with her head tilted slightly. Marius P. had walked away from the fence and we knew that the game was over.   
She walked over to me, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac were walking towards me. “Why didn’t Marius get the ball?” She asked.   
“Miss Fantine?” Combeferre adjusted his glasses.  
She looked at the ball sitting in the grassy field and then back at us, “The ball. Certainly, Marius could’ve just climbed over the wall and fetched it.”   
Joly and Bossuet had come over curiously, “What’s going on?” Joly asked.  
“I was just asking why Marius didn’t go over the fence to get the ball.” Miss Fantine repeated calmly.   
We all looked at each other, there were stories that were told all over Hailsham. These stories had been passed down from the older students to the younger students for years. One story was of the monsters in the woods, and how there were creatures who prowled the woods looking for naughty Hailsham students.   
“We don’t cross over the boundry, Miss Lucy, it’s too dangerous.” Bossuet said.   
She looked at us, “Dangerous?”  
“There was a boy who had a row with his friends and he jumped over the fence and went away. He was found two days later tied to a tree, with his hands and feet cut off. Dead.” Joly recounted. A shiver went down all our spines.  
“There was also a girl who had climbed over the fence and she wasn’t allowed back in, and then she starved to death and was eaten by wolves.” Bossuet added.  
We all nodded, “Who told you these stories?” Miss Fantine asked.  
“Everyone at Hailsham knows these stories, Miss Lucy.” I explained.  
“Then how do you know they’re true?” She asked.  
“Of course they’re true. Who would make up stories as horrible as that?” I responded.  
The bell rang and we hurried off the field to get changed into our uniform. The boys wore grey slacks, white button down shirts, grey vests and blue ties. We headed to the art room where Mister Leblanc was waiting for us with a patient smile. “Good afternoon.” He greeted.  
“Good afternoon Mister Leblanc.” I nodded as I walked to my easel.   
Grantaire was in my art class and he had the easel next to me. “Hello.” I said as I put my smock on.  
“Hello Enjolras. What are you painting today?” He asked.  
I shrugged, “Maybe a field with flowers. I’m not so good at painting.”   
“I like your paintings.” Grantaire said a flush rising in his neck.  
“Thank you. Yours are better than mine though.” I smiled.   
Mister Leblanc gave us our assignment, a rare occurrence, we were to pick an object in the room to paint. I stepped away from my easel and walked around the room. Courfeyrac picked out a book, Grantaire a bowl and I found a jar filled with different colored sand.  
I outlined the jar with black paint. I could feel the concentration in the room. We had heard that Madame was coming and she’d be judging works to be placed in the Gallery.   
Students at Hailsham created works of art, whether that was paintings, short stories, poetry (Jean P. always wrote poems and his poems always made the Gallery), or clay sculptures. These works were collected monthly by a woman named Madame. We never got her first name, just the title. She always arrived in a brown car and whenever she passed by us, she looked at us as if we were insects.   
Whenever she was at Hailsham, she would walk around the halls. She’d sometimes come into our classes and stand in the corner and write on her clipboard. We never knew what she was writing but we always gossiped about it.   
There’s a certain incident involving Madame that I feel is of certain importance. During a Sale, I decided to not buy anything and was sitting in the hallway when Grantaire popped his head out. “Are you not buying anything?” His hands were behind his back.  
I shook my head, “No.”  
“D’you not have any Tokens? Would you like some of mine?” He opened his palm, he had a lot of tokens.   
I smiled politely, “No thank you.”   
Grantaire nodded and disappeared into the room where the Sale was. He emerged a few minutes later with his hands behind his back. “I got something for you.”  
I looked up, “You didn’t have to. Those Tokens are yours!” I exclaimed.  
Grantaire showed what he had behind his back, it was a cassette tape. “Judy Bridgewater?” I read the cover.  
“I don’t know her music at all, but the title of the song took my interest.” Grantaire explained.   
On the cover it read, ‘Featuring the top hit: Never Let Me Go’. I thanked Grantaire and a bit later in the day, I went into one of the rec rooms where there was a cassette player and popped the tape in.   
It had a jazz sort of feel to it, Judy’s voice was smooth as she pleaded, “Never, never let me go.” I listened to the song twice and the third time I had imagined that she’s singing to her child, to never grow up, like that boy who could fly. I picked up a pillow off the armchair and held it like a baby and swayed to the music and sang along with her, “Never, never, let me gooooo.” I turned around the see Madame standing in the doorway. Her hand was covering her mouth and tears were falling from her eyes. I dropped the pillow and stopped the music. She walked down the hall and I was alone in the silence.


	3. Chapter 3

I told Combeferre and Courfeyrac about what had happened with Madame a few days later. We were sitting on one of the benches that circled around the fountain on Hailsham grounds.  
“She didn’t say anything to you?”  
I shook my head, “She was just crying and watching me, and then she just walked away.” I repeated for what felt like the tenth time.  
“I don’t understand. Why was she crying?” Combeferre wondered.  
I shrugged and changed the subject. Eventually, the whole incident was forgotten.  
That night I could sleep, so I stared up at the ceiling and listened to the sound of snoring in the room. “Hey, Enjolras. Are you awake?” Grantaire’s voice next to me asked.  
I turned onto my side, “Yeah.” I whispered back.  
“I can’t sleep.”  
“Neither can I.” I said.  
“Want to walk around?” He asked.  
“We can’t! We’ll get into trouble!” My eyes widened at the suggestion.  
“No we won’t. I know I place where we can go where we won’t get caught.”  
I thought for a second, knowing the Combeferre would look at me disapprovingly if he knew but then again, Courfeyrac would’ve told me to go ahead.  
Courfeyrac won.  
We tiptoed down the dark hallway to a dark alcove. I sat on the stone floor, Grantaire turned on his flashlight. “What’re you doing?” I asked.  
“Do you remember when we got married?” He asked.  
I laughed softly, “Yeah, didn’t everyone?”  
He nodded, “Well, it’s just that Bossuet and Musichetta said that they were going to get a deferral and then get married.” He looked away from me, in the dim light I could see that his face was growing red.  
“Well, that’s good.” I was confused, why was he bringing up something from so long ago.  
“It is. D’you remember what I gave you when we got married?” His voice was softer.  
“A horse. I remember, and I gave you a horrible drawing.”  
Grantaire giggled, then his voice was serious. “I just wanted to ask you if you would want to get a deferral. So we could get married.” I looked at him for a second, and he looked back at me. He sniffled, and I realized he was crying. “Y’see, everyone is going off together and I didn’t want to be alone.”  
“But what are the deferrals even for?” I asked.  
He looked at me, “I don’t know but everyone wants one and I want one.” He sobbed.  
I hugged him, “You won’t be. I promise.”  
Grantaire said something but I couldn’t understand him. “I’m sorry.”  
“It’s okay.” I smoothed his hair down. “I still have the horse.”  
He looked up, “You do?”  
I nodded, “I look at it everyday.”  
He sniffed, “Really?”  
“Yes because when you gave it to me I thought it was very nice. I would like to someday marry you too. And maybe we could own a bunch of horses.”  
Grantaire smiled, “I would really like that, Enjolras.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. I leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips.  
He took my hand and we went back to the dorm. That was the beginning of something marvelous between Grantaire and me. It was also the time when Combeferre and Joly, Courfeyrac and Jean Prouvaire, and Cosette and Marius got together. When we were fifteen, Combeferre and Joly were caught having sex in one of the empty classrooms by a teacher who heard the noises.  
There is a memory that I feel is important. It involves Miss Fantine and it happened when we were sixteen. By then, Grantaire and I were still together, as was everyone else. Bahorel and Feuilly had also gotten together.  
We were talking about a movie that we had seen a bit earlier in the day. I can’t remember what exactly prompted it but Miss Fantine had asked us to be silent for a moment.  
“This is the problem, I think. Is that you’ve been told but at the same time you haven’t been told. Let me ask this first, does anyone know what a deferral is?” Bossuet, Musichetta, Grantaire, and several others including myself raised our hands. “Does anyone know what a deferral is for?” She followed up. Our hands lowered and we looked at each other and then back at her. She nodded and paced around of a moment.  
“I’m not sure if any of you truly understand. Do you know what happens to children when they grow up? No, you don’t because nobody knows. Some grow up to become painters—“ I saw Grantaire straighten up. “—racecar drivers, supermarket workers, actors. Some may move to America or wherever they choose. But with you all, we do know what will happen. None of you will move to America, or work in supermarkets or become actors. None of you will do anything except live the life that has already been set out for you. You will become adults, but only briefly.  
Before you are old, before you are even middle aged, you will start to donate your vital organs. That’s what you were created to do. And sometime around your third or forth donation, your short life will be complete. You have to know who you are and what you are. It’s the only way you’ll lead decent lives.” Miss Fantine looked at us, the only sound was the rain falling outside. The next week, we found out that Miss Fantine had been fired.  
That day stuck out for me because that night Grantaire cried horribly, as did Jean Prouvaire and Courfeyrac. Marius and Cosette held each other. We were slowly being confronted with something that we hadn’t know before. We had two years until we were to be moved to the Cottages and a few more years until we would begin our Donations.  
I held onto Grantaire’s hand and gently sang to hm, “Hold me, and never let me go.”


End file.
